Tarzan and the Lesson
by Wai-Jing Waraugh
Summary: Based on Disney's 'Legend of Tarzan' sequel tv series. Tarzan and Jane are visited by friends: Basuli and Naoh, a married couple from the Waziri tribe. Naoh reveals to Jane that as son of the Waziri chief, Basuli can be arrogant; his father hopes he will learn humility from Tarzan's example. But when Basuli provokes the jungle's worst predators, it may be a lesson learned too late.


_Author's note: Another _Tarzan_ story. I know, three at one time is excessive. And this one includes characters from the _'Legend of Tarzan'_ series, who no one probably knows. Sorry. As compensation, I have written - and plan to write - some sweet scenes of Tarzan and Jane doing domestic things together, as a married couple. I really loved how their relationship was handled in the tv show, and wanted to elaborate on it a bit._

_I have a few other _Tarzan_ fics in progress, and ideas for more; so if you like this story, please check them out as well. Reviews are very welcome; I often reply to them (eventually), so please make sure you are signed in if you want to hear back from me. I have pretty much all of the second chapter already written, so if the response is good, I'll post it up soon._

_Enjoy!_

_~ W.J._

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><p><strong>Tarzan and the Lesson<strong>

**Chapter One**

A bright beam of sunlight shone full in Jane's eyes, waking her up.

Murmuring a sleepy protest to herself, she scrunched up her nose, scrubbing tiredly at her face with the heel of her hand. Then she woke up enough to realize that this was exactly what she had wanted.

The sun's first rays were peeping through a gap in the curtain that screened their 'nest-area' from the rest of their tree house. The night before, she had purposefully left their bedroom 'door' slightly ajar, with this very result intended.

She glanced furtively over her shoulder. Her husband lay in the bed beside her.

Given how active and alert he always was whilst awake, it was a pleasurable novelty to see him so utterly relaxed. His long limbs were stretched out in full repose. His head was cushioned by a loose pile of leaves.

He had never taken to pillows. During their first few nights in the tree house, just starting to live together as a married couple, he hadn't been able to sleep properly. Not until he had leapt out through the window into the night, returning moments later with an armload of fresh green foliage. It reminded him of his childhood home, she supposed. After more than twenty years as one of the apes, he was used to nesting out in the open. The leaves had bothered her a little at first, but now she was accustomed to them. Their soft rustling as he shifted in his sleep no longer woke her, and their scent was very pleasant - fresh and earthy. Much like him.

His face was turned away from her, so she couldn't tell if his eyes were open; but she could see his chest rise and fall with a steady, languid rhythm.

Jane smiled to herself in satisfaction. It was just as well; she had plans, and she needed him to stay asleep for a little while longer. She knew that he had spent the previous evening rough-housing with Terk and Tantor (well, mostly Terk) for old time's sake. If there was any day when he might be worn-out enough to sleep in, today was likely that day.

Getting up quietly enough not to rouse him was a challenge. His senses were so keen; after years of waking at the slightest sound that might be a stalking leopard, he was a very light sleeper. Slowly, cautiously, she inched her way over to the edge of the bed, easing off the covers as she did so. Carefully as she could, she set one foot on the floor, then the other. He didn't stir.

Triumphantly applauding herself inside, Jane manoeuvred fully out of the bed, and began to tip-toe across the room. She made it as far as the door; then a voice, coming from behind and slightly above her, said:

"You're up early."

Startled, she spun round, and found herself looking straight into her husband's face.

He was level with her, albeit upside-down, hanging from the beam that ran above the doorway. Even wrong-way-up, she plainly saw the joking glint in his eye, the mischievous quirk in his smile.

"So are you, from the look of it," she replied, with wry humour in her voice. She used it to mask the irritation she secretly felt. "You were only pretending to sleep, weren't you?"

He raised - from her view, dropped - a hand to sheepishly rub the back of his neck. "Well, you were trying so hard not to wake me, it seemed like I should." He eyed her curiously. "Why _were_ you trying not to wake me?"

She gave a sigh of half-hearted resignation. "Well, if you must know... it was going to be a surprise..."

"A surprise?"

He straightened his knees, unhooking his legs from the beam and flipping in mid-air to land neatly in front of her. Dangling from branches was almost as natural to him as standing upright; yet he got rid of even this minor distraction, making sure he gave her his full attention.

_Just another of the little things that she loved about him..._

"Yes," she said, giving him a chagrined look. "You are rather hard to keep secrets from, love. I was going to... well, I thought you might like it if I brought you breakfast in bed."

He tilted his head, mouth tugged to one side in a confused look. _He used to make that face at our old slide projector,_ Jane thought to herself, chuckling inwardly.

"Breakfast in bed?" he repeated.

"Yes. It's something that couples in England do for one another. One person gets to stay in bed, while the other makes them breakfast and brings it to them, without them having to get up."

"But I don't mind getting up," he pointed out, looking a little perplexed.

"I could see that," Jane replied, with a smile. "But, well, I was going to save you the trouble."

"Wouldn't that mean you'd have to do all the work?"

She reached up and put a hand on each of his shoulders; he was frowning down at her, trying his best to understand a concept that was foreign to him. She was quick to reassure him. "Yes," she replied, with gentle patience. "That's the whole point. I wanted to do something for you, for a change. You're always doing things for me."

"But I like to do things for you," he said, giving her the most sincere smile she had ever seen on any face.

"So you say," she retorted, raising a hand to lightly chuck him under the chin. "Don't you think, then, that I might enjoy doing something for you?"

"Oh." He realized, far too late, that he had unwittingly done the wrong thing. "I can go back to bed-"

He took a step away from her; she reached out and caught him by the shoulder. "No, no, no. If you're already up, there's not much point. We'll just have breakfast the normal way."

He faced her with a rueful expression. Taking one of her hands in his two, he held it with a gentleness that one wouldn't expect to come with such strength. "I'd rather be in the kitchen with you than in bed without you."

She couldn't help but giggle at that, face flushing with pleasure. "Oh, you great flatterer!" she said, using her free hand to coyly fiddle with her hair.

He had a habit of outright saying whatever he felt in such a simple, straightforward manner. It was utterly charming, yet always made her feel a bit flustered; a proper Englishman would be honest, but not quite so forthright. She wished she could express herself as freely as he did. Instead, she attempted these ridiculous acts of well-meaning subterfuge, with limited success.

_If only she had such an effective way of conveying to him how much she loved him..._

She lifted the hand that he held, bringing his two with it; she raised the topmost to her lips, planting a kiss upon the pronounced ridge of knuckles that ran along its back. She thought she saw his eyes soften a little, take on a new shade of tenderness, as he watched her do it.

_Well, that seemed to work rather well._

"Come on," she said, keeping hold of his hand; she used it to tug him through the doorway after her. "I'll make us some breakfast. I thought I might bake a loaf of banana bread."

His elated smile grew a bit wider at that. It looked as though she had managed a clear victory after all; she knew it was his favourite.

"While you do that," he said, dropping her hand with a little reluctance, "I'll fetch some fresh water, to make the tea."

"But you don't like tea," she pointed out as he picked up her poor, much-battered tea pot. He paused with one foot upon the window sill.

"No, but you do. And I like fresh water."

With that, he tossed another grin over his shoulder at her, then leapt headlong through the open window.

Jane chuckled to herself as she headed for the kitchen.

Making tea, with water from a waterfall? It was hardly a conventional, proper English life - but that wasn't at all a bad thing.

Quite the contrary.

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><p><em>Author's note: there you have it, details of Tarzan and Jane's sleeping arrangements. You're welcome.<em>

_In one episode of the tv series_ ('Tarzan and the Beast from Below')_, it was shown that they at least sleep in the same room, so I'm not pulling it out of nowhere (they share a really sweet smooch in that episode, too!) I like that they're a rare Disney couple that are actual portrayed as married in official canon; other films show the characters still courting, or later as parents; but in such cases they usually either go through relationship angst better suited to teenagers, or take a backseat role in the plot, with the focus on their children. By contrast, '_Legend of Tarzan'_ very much focuses on the dynamics of Tarzan and Jane's marriage, which is very refreshing. _

_To anybody wondering, Tarzan's 'bed' comment was meant in all innocence - though you can decide for yourself how Jane chose to take it ;) ~ W.J._


End file.
